


of dusk and dawn

by youwillmakeitoutofthisalive



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 06:50:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwillmakeitoutofthisalive/pseuds/youwillmakeitoutofthisalive
Summary: A lover said to another, " a song is calling from my spirit to yours".this is that song.reckless, as Bucky's heart. fierce, as Steve's soul.





	1. your tenderness is a wound that cuts clean through my heart

**Author's Note:**

> a stevebucky poem a day keeps the russos away

And when the flooding water comes in

as a flower

to wash away 70 years of sorrow

My toughened shell of a body won't flinch

i will stand tall and firm

over your grave. There's pride to be found

in the grief of a lover: i have loved

enough.

And when the reddened and unforgiving jaws of death

open up before me

i will not fear,

my dear,

i'm bowing down to meet you again.

Have i been missing you since the first time we met?

And when the frozen mountainside

took you in

and when the cold european wind

took you away

My god, how i wept

firebreath in my lungs, you burned

Were you scared?

i don't want you to be

if there are sunflowers blooming were your body lays

and dirt where your mouth should speak;

if butterflies were born under your feet

and fireflies now live in your eye sockets

i don't wanna know it

;

i don't want you peacefully resting in the long featherbed of oblivion

nor do i want your ashes mixed in with the stars:

that cocky smile and your perky blue eyes winking down at me

i don't want you up in the clouds, far away

where i can't reach

into the good night, which is both friend and thief

although i'd have you any way you may be

i do not want you forever young ;

i'd prefer you growing old with me

hair greying, bones aching from lovemaking

and the passing of the years

laughter lines

and some wrinkles from furrowing your brow so much

How unfair this all was

How unfair it is

that i shall never hear you laugh again

How unfair to my hands, forever hanging at the sides of my body

never held

How unfair to the life we would've had

back home from this blackened land

How unfair to the roses i'll bring

to your empty tombstone;

(a place in the ground reserved for the memory of you

where your head will not rest,

lost, instead,

alone,

causing through a freezing river,

perhaps, wondering where i am)

_[i am here, my love, but where are you?]_

But how unfair to the roses! they'll be as beautiful as you, my lover, are sweet

and they, too, will die under my hands

time is a cruel companion

it heals the scars of the soul, yes,

but its sharp edges never stop scarring

And nevertheless

what a pleasure

it has been

being undone by you

i would do it all again

walk along an endless line

to find you at the end

And when the ocean comes to meet the shore

after 70 years of drought

i'll be waiting

will you wait, my love, for me?

_S. G. Rogers. September, 1946._


	2. when the sun shined on me again, after one hundred years of ice, my heart was already frozen

i have only just woke up

and i already know it's too late

i realise i have woken up to a world without you in it

i can feel it, just out of the way my fingers are curling in on themsleves

breaking down like branches, perishing to reach out to you.

i open my eyes to a life so violent it rots out my heart

from the inside

and everywhere, these dreadful tortured beings cry out for you

as i once did

for a soul as tender as your look was sweet

to watch over their errors and see growth instead of pettiness.

it takes a big chest to fit the pain of the whole world in.

a man is a house and all of my walls are on fire.

you have always loved the burning

flashing

mess that i am

yours was the biggest chest i've ever slept on.

yours was my chest. to sleep and to wake up in.

i wake up so lonely, today,

they tell me you belong to another lifetime, one i should better forget.

forgetting is what i fear the most.

how will i ever sleep again without the ghost of you beside me?

I wake up to my rotten heart and it falls right off;

i'll save it for you anyways, in case you come back

my tears will water its corpse

All day and every day

i find myself shrinking to try and squeeze my way into our past.

All day, and every day, i let hard objects hit me and pretend those are your hands

or better yet, your mouth,

knocking me to the ground

in one swift motion of love.

But a world like this one knows nothing of your hands;

such softness cannot be made up,

not even by those who know the taste of honey

or the flavour of a kiss

or the mildness of a song.

Your hands,

that bore life

and endured the unbearable weight of death,

who took it upon themselves to be the butcher

and felt the prey,

that could heal and could hurt, but would rather stay still ;

your hands that cut wounds in the shape of sunlight

every time they so much as whispered over my skin

your god given hands

what wouldn't i give to hold them again?

whatever it takes, i'd do it.

i'd cross every ocean, i'd die of thirst.

i'd fight against the odds and challenge fate.

i would raise the dead.

no matter how high the cost

to see you again.

_S.G. Rogers. September, 2012._


End file.
